Little Intern, Big City

Since I started my first week of my summer internship, I have been trying to think of one singular word to sum up that job since every person I encounter asks me “so, how’s your new internship?” and it is extremely tedious to tell them the same description over and over again.

But I can’t seem to find just one word for this job because I love it and I hate it at the same time. I’m working for a fashion PR firm in New York City. Landing this internship was the craziest news of my life because this is my dream job – even if I have to work from the ground up. When I thought “dream job” I didn’t include packing boxes, lifting bins and climbing ladders, getting lost while picking up dry cleaning, navigating the nasty subway system of New York, and organizing clothing by collection and look into that description. But what I did dream up was delivering clothes to photo shoots, running errands for the Met Gala, working in an office with a view of the whole city, and feeling really proud of my work at the end of the day – and I do get to have these experiences every day.

 Yea sure, I’m just an intern, but my job is cool as hell. Even though I’m not getting paid. It’s really fine.

 My first day in the office was awesome. I met my boss and she took me around the space super quickly and showed me all of the closets and showrooms (little did I know I would spend hours sitting on the floor, drowning in a sea of shoes and Spanish leather) and gave me a run-down of my job. She basically made it seem a lot simpler than I would soon discover it to be. She took me to my desk – apparently the interns don’t get the comfy chairs like the rest of the office – and explained the systems of packaging, shipping, scheduling deliveries and pick-ups, gifting, organizing the closets, creating clippings on photoshop, all that cool stuff.

 I was jacked up on coffee and feeling super excited and confident in myself, until I had to start running around the office with heavy pieces while wearing heels. Wearing heels to work will never happen again.

 On my very first day I sent clothing to Vogue China for a photo shoot with a celebrity that I'm pretty sure I cannot disclose (but yes, I did fangirl). I also delivered some dresses to this swanky hotel in SoHo for the Met Gala after party. It was so scary taking these expensive pieces on the subway and just praying that I didn’t get them dirty or lost/stolen down there. My anxiety was through the roof until I made it to that hotel, and I held on to those dresses with my entire life and career.

 Going on runs out of the office is great because I get to see the light of day and run around New York in my fashionista work clothes. I’m not going to lie, I feel super cool out there. But then you have to deal with the creepy men that wander the streets of the city, getting some weird satisfaction out of cat calling a 20-year-old who is clearly not into that. They usually get a middle finger or a kind “fuck off” from me, or if I’m feeling super feisty that day they get a “shove it up your ass.”

 But then I return to the office and I’m just Fashion Intern number 1, 2, 3, 4, or 5 again. No one besides my team really bothers to know my name but I guess that’s just how this business is. Everyone is so absorbed in their own work and making a name for themselves, that no one will know yours until you give them a reason to.

 But that’s exactly why I get up every morning, commute into the city and deal with the parts of the job that might not be so great. I know I can do really great things in this field, and one day, soon, I’ll be a boss. I like to look at myself just like Carrie Bradshaw – she started off as a helpless intern with a sense of style and a passion for writing. But then she got old and went all Sex and the City, became such a power figure, married Mr. Big and lived happily ever after.

 A girl can dream, right?

 When I finally make it back home at around 7 pm, I can barely walk, I’m starving and I just really don’t wanna speak to anyone. I ask my mom to make me dinner, even though she literally forgets I am a vegetarian and puts meat in all of my meals, and then I just hop in bed and I’m snoozing by 9 PM.

 Then it’s up and at ‘em at 7 AM for me, back to the city to flip through my Look Books and pretend that I know exactly what I’m doing, when I genuinely have no clue at all.

 But I wouldn’t want it any other way. This summer is gonna be amazing.


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